6 inches down

he smelled like cigarettes and ancient clich├ęs
from the antique store around the corner 2 blocks down
(tasted like last tuesday's alcohol we shared
in the tattered backseat of his father's pick-up truck)

he had the feeling of lovemetrue but
i'm too old for fairytales (because you lovedmetoolate)
in the morning he smells like sleep and tastes like melatonin
(and feels like hell)
because he never remembers what happened the day before

tousled hair with bangs so long they hid his
bloodshot eyes and the heavy bags underneath
leans against the wall.brown eyes closed.cracked lips mumbling
mumbling. mumblingmumblingmumbling-
"i love you i love you iloveyou iloveyou iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou"
but he doesn't know what he's saying because
if he did-- (if he did i would love him but i don't)
he breaks promises everyday &carries heaven on his shoulders

he has hell between his fingers and he knows
tries to wash it off everyday and scrubs so hard
that the white marble sink is stained red
9inches under my skin and i can hear his screams
because 6inches under his skin he knows it's over
he's trapped between heaven and hell and past and present
with my pain digging into his heart &sometimes.he.stops.breathing
because you lovedmetoolate and i don't know how to stop